Without Yuki
by Purrmeow
Summary: After one step too far, Shuchi leaves Yuki...but someone is there to console him. RP fic in the making.
1. Chapter 1 to 11

Without Yuki (We'll come up with a better name soon)  
  
Authors: Purrmeow and Krys  
  
Rating: R  
  
Disclaimer: As I say in other fics, the characters are of course not ours or it would be an original story opposed to the fan fiction that it is. This story is not for readers who prefer Shuichi and Yuki to stay together. It just doesn't happen.  
  
Chapters 1 to 11:  
  
1:  
  
Sweeping his crimson locks over his shoulder, and tangling that hand in his thick bangs, the guitarist sighed. He had always taken to absently picking at the strings of his guitar whenever he was either overwhelmed by stress, or just too bored to do much of anything else; at the moment he wasn't sure which it was, but he just couldn't create a soothing sound. Maybe it was his empty apartment, or maybe it was the fact that for once he wanted to run to someone for his problems...  
  
It was no secret that he had become a vent for Shuichi's frustrations, and even less of a secret that he and Ayaka had recently broken up due to Hiro's own repressed feelings. Okay, maybe it was the former that had driven him to his guitar today, but he usually dealt with it so coolly, and the answers were always there for him. Today they weren't, and he had no clue where to run, where to hide, where to go...  
  
Dropping the well kept instrument to his bed, he nearly leapt off the springy mattress and sprung towards the door; what he needed now was a drive, to sooth himself as the cool night air whipped past him. He had no clue where he was going, or why, but as he opened the door, only one thought was on his mind: get out.  
  
2:  
  
An enormous yawn escaped his parted lips; it wasn't that he felt nothing for the attractive older man, simply that this situation was loosing interest. The cold-hearted writer remained distant and cruel to him through all these months, and it worried Shuichi that he no longer cared enough for it to affect his music. In fact some of the best lyrics seemed to flow through his pen like a waterfall.  
  
Coat in hand, he inched across the room, destination set in his mind. The guitarist of his band would surely welcome his company, and perhaps provide even better entertainment than a stoic and aging man was capable of. He darted out the door at full speed, rushing to Hiro's, all the while unaware that the ruby-haired otoko had already left his flat.  
  
***  
  
The blonde barely glanced up from his work at the slam of the door. It irritated him more and more that his fiery young koi could never just grow up; he was always in and out of the house like a teenager. One likely wouldn't guess him to be any more than sixteen. Though a spark had existed between them, such a flame seemed dimmer with every passing day. He glared back at the computer, as though it could provide the answers he needed. But his concentration was jolted by a knock at the door. 'I hope that idiot didn't forget his keys and has returned already.' Eiri silently thought. Openly the door, wearing the worst imaginable glare, the writer found himself face to face with one he never expected.  
  
"What are you doing here?"  
  
3:  
  
Supposing it was some unknown, inside force that had drawn the red head to Shuichi's, and unfortunately Yuki's, apartment, he glared back at the taller man. Never had he taken a liking to the begrudging elder, and the way he just ordered answers out of him really frustrated Hiro. He was NOT one to be ordered around!  
  
"Is Shuichi in?" He flatly explained, slate gray eyes glued to their golden counter, his own never losing their cold, flat look; at least not for this careless coprolite. IT was frustrating, always having to share his Shuichi with the other man, he was there for the childish vocalist first, and although it seemed childish, why couldn't Shuichi choose him over the blonde?  
  
He was just a punching bag, for the pink haired bishounen to take out his vocal frustrations one, and quite frankly he would do it any day. Shuichi was worth it.  
  
4:  
  
Rain had been sprinkling on him the entire jog. It had been to long since he had run to Hiro's house with such enthusiasm. Only mere blocks remained between he and the caring redhead. Shuichi's smile widened with every step, every leap, much to the confusion of passers-by. So close to his destination, the pink-haired otoko realized his lack of planning; what would he say to the guitarist? 'Why do I always rush into things without thinking?' he scolded.  
  
***  
  
The cold expression reflected back at him usually pissed Eiri off completely. 'This punk thinks he's better than me?' The stoic writer could have punched his lover's friend right on the spot. However, for once he held back. The past weeks and months had felt different; secretly starved for affection because of how cruel he couldn't help being to Shuichi, Eiri desperately wanted to relieve his build-up of emotions.  
  
Unexpected to even himself, he pulled the tall, slender man into the apartment, fiercely overcoming the other's resistance. Within seconds Hiro was dragged into his best friend's bedroom by the energetic young man's lover. Yuki wasted no time tearing the plain outfit from his victim's body. Obviously any change he had undergone was for the worse.  
  
***  
  
Beaming, he pounded on the apartment door. Several booming knocks resulted in no answer. Shuichi accepted that his companion must be out, and resolved to return home, because of the weather, and call the other later. He gaily (in of course the 'happy' way) pranced home, again to the shock of those whose paths he crossed. Nothing could break his mood, at least not yet...  
  
5:  
  
Definitely not used to this side of Yuki, and being so roughly handled, the young adult fought for his way out of the horrifying situation. Apparently he had assumed wrong about the blonde, in both personality and strength; he had to admit he never expected Yuki to not be faithful , particularly because the blonde was so cold that he couldn't see anyone besides Shuichi tolerating it. The surprising strength of his assailant was also completely unexpected, and left the red head nearly trembling.  
  
He dodged the other's lips for all he was worth, also attempting to wriggle out of the hold Yuki had on both him and his clothes. Shirt nearly torn away from his lean body, and jacket hanging off of one toned arm, he futilely gave up the use of his arms, pinned to his torso in uncomfortable ways, and attempted to make use of his legs and voice to their fullest capability.  
  
Kicking at the space between the author's knowingly spread legs, he was thrust onto the bed, by no force other than his own loss of balance, and quickly pinned to the piece of furniture formerly mentioned. "What the fuck do you think you are doing?!" There was no need to watch what he was saying, and continued with even more anger and amplitude, "Don't you dare try anything on me!"  
  
"Where is Shuichi?!" But he knew the just of the answer before even addressing the question. Shuichi wasn't in, and he was regretting coming here more than ever.  
  
6:  
  
The light sprinkle of earlier had soon become a heavy shower; Shuichi could barely hold back the urge to sneeze and shiver. Home was only blocks away, and yet he was almost ready to give up. Every few steps caused him to trip and slide on the rain-slicked sidewalks. His clothes soaked through, tremors overcame the young man's body as he stumbled to the elevator of the apartment building.  
  
Reaching his and Yuki's apartment, Shuichi was shocked to find the door ajar. His lover was not foolish enough to leave the door open, and he'd heard the slam when he'd left less than half an hour ago. Something seemed gut-wrenchingly wrong. In seconds he recognized the voice of the screaming guitarist, and followed it to find himself in the bedroom.  
  
'How could he do this to me??!!' was the only thought that flew into the singer's mind. He had unsuspectingly walked into his own bedroom, shared with the stoic writer, to find his long-time lover atop his best friend. What the hell was going on? Shuichi dragged his body to the living room, collapsing onto the couch; no amount of consoling could erase the horror he now felt.  
  
7:  
  
It was as though he had some sort of radar for the young vocalist, because the second his friend entered, he knew Shuichi was there; it broke what was left of his heart to imagine what must be running through Shuichi's mind at the moment. With a strength that had previously gone unnoticed, Hiro threw his assailant off his half clothed, and disheveled body; leaping for the living room, in hopes that Shuichi had not run off. "Get the fuck away from me!"  
  
As expected, and hoped, the pink haired boy was still in the apartment, curled into a painfully tight ball, half on, half off the couch. And for once, Hiro didn't know what to say, to explain the sudden change in the cold-hearted writer. Kneeling next to his best friend in the entire world, the red head draped a nude arm over Shuichi's rain soaked shoulder, and although it were painfully cold there, he permit it stay. He only hoped that Shuichi accepted the embrace he was offering, as any way of reassuring the disheveled musician.  
  
8:  
  
He followed the redhead into his living room, more out of instinct than of his free will, only to find the ravaged man comforting 'his Shuichi'. Not that it bothered him really, but if anything, thins whole situation would make him look like the bad guy. If the plan would have gone smoothly, Shuichi would be in his embrace, declaring his hatred of the guitarist for such betrayal. 'Well, I guess that's how this one works out...' Yuki mused to himself, lighting a cigarette to calm his nerves.  
  
***  
  
The warmth of his friend burned into his drenched skin, and Shuichi could only curl towards the source. He had no idea who started what, but had strong doubts that Hiro had caused any of this. Tears tore down his flushed cheeks, collecting on the other's shoulder, where his head now gently rested. In some way, though he desperately wanted to know what had happened, the young singer wanted nothing more than just to leave this heartbreaking apartment.  
  
"Hiro, please take me away from here..."  
  
9:  
  
Hiro had prayed that it would go this way, that Shuichi would accept his embrace; he didn't know what he would do if he couldn't be there for his little idiot, he had grown dependant on comforting the other, if not anything else. He could sense the brooding presence of the novelist, and he could only hope that Yuki would not try anything when he went to redress.  
  
"Shuichi," he took the teary boy by the shoulders, and pulled him away so that he could gaze into those teary eyes, he could always read Shuichi through his eyes. "I'll take you wherever you want to go, but I think we should both get redressed." The red head smiled, thinking of what it would look like if he were to drive a soaking Shuichi home, wearing nearly nothing.  
  
Directing Shuichi to the bedroom, he paused before the door, waiting to see if the usually genki vocalist would be comfortable enough to get himself some clothes. But not before he shot an icy glare at the man that had caused all of this, that brought his Shuichi so much pain; and yet held the younger on an invisible leash, Shuichi curled around the blonde's little finger. "Don't worry Shuichi, I'll take you to my place."  
  
10:  
  
Dragging the first items he found, Shuichi changed into a snug-fitted t- shirt, and jeans; they would keep him warm. He handed a shirt to Hiro, aware that the rips in his may make it difficult to wear. Yuki did not stand in the way as the pair exited, not bothering to even acknowledge him. That only made the sinking feeling in his gut intensified, the urge to simply vomit rising with every passing second. 'jeez, Yuki can be such a jerk sometimes. If he wanted to get rid of me, why did he have to pull Hiro into it?' The pink-haired otoko's head swam in confusion. His lover never seemed to do things understandably or straightforward, leaving him a mess of mixed signals to interpret. Why he still bothered to remain with the cruel writer was a mystery.  
  
Hiro's car was warm, and obviously had been running recently. Shuichi basked in the heated that absorbed into his pores. Reclining the passenger seat fully back, he closed his reddened eyes and waited for the motion of the guitarist's car to signal their departure. He wouldn't come back to Eiri without a miracle...not this time.  
  
11:  
  
The shirt that Shuichi had handed him was more than a little too tight, his form a fair bit more filled out than his friend's, and it clung uncomfortably to his bruising biceps; but Hiro didn't care, his first concerns were that Shuichi was taken out of this torturous place as soon as possible. He was happy to see that the other was so comfortable around him, and quite frankly, he could look forward to the genki man staying for a while. Slamming the door shut, he motioned for Shuichi to do up his seatbelt, before doing it himself for the visually exhausted vocalist.  
  
Speedily driving back to his apartment, fully aware that Shuichi would probably be depending on Hiro's fashionable eighties wardrobe, seeing that the smaller hadn't even cared enough to pack a spare of clothes, he guided him to his apartment. It was even more of a chore to lead the sluggish form up the towering staircase, but somehow he did it.  
  
Throwing the front door open, he flicked on the lights, and lightly tugged Shuichi in after him. "Do you want me to set up the spare futon for you? Or if you don't mind, my bed is kinda big. To be honest I'm thrashed. " He wasn't the type to blab, and it was at that moment that he noticed his partner's peculiar behavior. "Shuichi, are you okay? You haven't been the most talkative since we left Yuki's. Is there something that you wanted to tell me, we can talk about it for as long as you like." (I'd say that the only problem with the RPG is that Hiro has a motorcycle, rather than a car, but I'll just play it as it is written.) 


	2. Chapter 12 to 22

Chapter 12 to 22  
  
12:  
  
It was warm and dark in the apartment, stuffy so that it was hard to breathe. How did Hiro survive such humidity? A flick of a switch allowed his companion to shed light upon the small, typically Japanese rooms. Shuichi threw his limp body onto the bed. His arms bounced on the mattress in a rhythmic way, reminding him of the way his limbs flailed when he and Yuki would make love. Immediately he rolled his face into the pillow to suffocate the thought. There were so many thoughts of Yuki, the young vocalist could drown in his slowly fading affection.  
  
Hiro was so understanding of this, not having made a peep for minutes. It was like the rational man, most likely thinking through his friend's problem for the best solution. Such a presumption was the cause of what Shuichi foolishly said next.  
  
"So, Hiro, what am I supposed to do?"  
  
13:  
  
At first the red head thought he was referring to the sleeping arrangements, so he could not stop himself when he piped up saying, "Well, you usually lay in the bed, close your eyes, and- oh..." He was not surprised at the fact that Shuichi was asking him for advice, but this was the first time that he was actually without the answer. So he began with the obvious and hoped that throughout the course of the conversation that he would figure it out. " You can stay with me as long as you like, and I'll do anything that you need me to do. Help yourself to my clothes, and my apartment will be your home until you figure things out."  
  
Hiro was surprised that for once his friend was not crying, usually he would start and go on until Hiro hit him to shut him up. Sweeping down to the occupied bed, Hiro placed a calloused palm onto his best friend's forehead, and jokingly questioned. "Shuichi, are you sick, you haven't cried since we left the apartment..."  
  
14:  
  
"WHAT?!" The pink-haired vocalist thrashed about like the child Hiro was implying him to be. It was an outrage, but embarrassingly true; he did tend to overreact. But he was left questioning why this time was different. Shuichi flopped helplessly back onto the bed, gazing emptily at the ceiling; however, there were no answers in the white stucco surface.  
  
"I just feel different this time. Usually he'd be mean and I'd whine and cry until someone gave me attention. Once I calmed down, this would go back to normal. But I don't know what to do now. It feels as though there is nothing worth saving." His eyes began to water. He had been with Yuki for so long, he couldn't imagine what it would be like without the cold, stoic and strangely affection blonde with him. And still he would rather try.  
  
The cold started to sink in, chilling right to the bone. He curled into the guitarist's lap, purring at the heat his friend emitted.  
  
15:  
  
It was always comforting to have Shuichi close to him, he didn't know why, but it just was; it was so different from anyone else, and at times he even longed for the sensation. A soft smile crept up his pale lips, and his arms instinctively went around his best friend; however, a soft ripping sound alerted him that perhaps the motion was a little bad for his current attire. "Sorry Shuichi..." The shirt was honestly too tight, and it bulged when his muscles contracted beneath it, "I'll fix it tomorrow." Tearing it from his body, he resumed the initial task, and just held the other close to his heart.  
  
To be honest, this had been the first time in a while that he had the chance to really hold the other. When they were teenagers they would share a bed, and Shuichi would just curl up against him, whispering in the dark; they would talk until they were both too tired to go on, and he was never certain when, but soon enough he would be asleep too. But Yuki had completely ruined that. Yuki had stolen away those moments, and even when Shuichi would run to him screaming that it was the end, he was still afraid of touching the novelist's Shuichi. But was Shuichi really his again? The thought was fearful.  
  
"Perhaps we should get to be though, ne? We can share my bed. It will be like old times."  
  
16:  
  
The thought seemed pleasant: 'just like old time.' It had been quite a while since their high school days, and Shuichi barely had time to reminisce anymore. This evening was the perfect opportunity. He just hoped Hiro did not want to sleep right away. They could talk until they could no longer stay awake, and say stupid things and jokes without restraint. Shuichi stripped the shirt from his shivering body and dove beneath the blankets. He would have to sleep in his boxers, not having brought any clothes to Hiro's place. How careless of him. Though the guitarist was originally and nicely dressed, it just wasn't his style to wear such clothes. He would eventually have to work up the nerve to go to Yuki and at the least collect his things. That is, unless the blond came to him first.  
  
Wasting no time, Shuichi snuggled up to his friend, arms and legs entwining with the other's. It was such routine to behave this way, yet it had been so long since he was close to the redhead like this, something felt different. Whenever he was close to Yuki this way, it usually involved sex, or something more erotic than sleeping or chatting. As a natural reaction, the magenta-haired vocalist felt his organ harden at the sensations from such closeness. He hoped more than anything that his companion didn't notice. Pulling away would seem suspicious, but the longer he stayed pressed into the redhead, the worse it would become. Paralyzed with confusion and fear, Shuichi stayed put, only with the thought that maybe it wasn't too obvious.  
  
17:  
  
It really was proving to be difficult, trying to regain the comfort that he and the younger once shared; after all, he was not the only one Shuichi had so intimately entangled with, and the same for him. It all seemed so very sexual to him now, almost impossible to fight back the familiar urges. He could no longer stop his hand from so lightly combing through Shuichi's silky locks, sliding his face ever closer to that of his friends. Hiro could smell Shuichi's shampoo, a blend of vanilla and something else, perfuming that pink mop.  
  
'This is not some girl, this is Shuichi.' His mind repeatedly shouted, trying to sedate that warm fuzzy feeling with that of another, to allow the nostalgia to rush back in, rather than this tidal wave of new and strange emotions. His free hand rested atop the other's slim waist, and he could swear that through their tangled limbs, Shuichi was experiencing the same dilemma. 'Poor guy...' he sympathized; it was always easier to view everything as someone else's problems, because if they were someone else's, then Hiro could fix them.  
  
"So...."  
  
18:  
  
Shuichi held his breath a moment, everything would pass with time. He relaxed his muscles, to ease the tension that had been building, and slowed his heaving breath to a normal pace. It was kinda weird to feel this for his best friend; not something anyone would ever predict. Thoughts of singing, of fully clothes people enjoying themselves, and fuzzy bunny rabbits being run over by semis calmed his hormones. Besides, no matter what he felt, he could do anything. It was Hiro after all.  
  
"So, how has it been without Ayaka?" Shuichi innocently began, not realizing that it would probably arouse hurt feelings from the redhead. When this dawned upon him, he could have slapped his idiotic face for saying such a thing. But hopefully Hiro would change the subject rather than maybe get mad at him for bringing the subject up. When nothing happened, he quickly started a new topic. "I mean....uh.....hear any good songs lately. There was this one on the radio the other day. Wow, I really liked it. I didn't catch the name, but if I ever hear it again..."  
  
19:  
  
Sighing as his cheek rested atop his best friend's head, Hiro tried to find the words to explain how he was feeling. "To be honest, I don't think there was anything there in the first place. Just a pretty face," he admitted, although he cut out the main reason, 'something to take away from Yuki.' It hadn't taken him long to realize that was the reason his infatuation had grown to such heights, but he was already trapped; and although he missed the fond caresses, and long conversations, there was someone even more suited to that, the latter that is.  
  
"Shuichi," he felt like an idiot for being about to ask the next question, and it would most doubt lose the comfortable atmosphere when he did, but it had been eating at the back of his mind, and he had to rid himself of the annoyance. "What was the first thing that attracted you to Yuki?" But soon the question was replaced by another, more personal one, "did he even hold you in the night, until he fell asleep?" The red head couldn't see how the other could stand it so long if there was no tenderness; Shuichi thrived on things like snuggling, and random conversation. Or at least the Shuichi he knew did...  
  
20:  
  
"Of course he did." Shuichi announced, naively proud. Everyone seemed to think Yuki was terribly cold, but it wasn't completely true. There had been times, late in the evenings, after they had made love, that the blond would pull him close and he could smell the other's scent. It wasn't frequent, and for all Shuichi knew, his lover could have been sleeping, but those times happened, vivid in his memory. For every cruel, hurtful, or simply inconsiderate thing he'd done, Yuki made up for it with at least one of the complete opposite. "There were times, I'm sure you won't believe, that he was so gentle and......loving, I guess. It's true."  
  
His reminiscence made the poor vocalist's heart ache. His decision never to return to his Eiri now seemed harsh. As much as he was determined, there could be hope. Perhaps it was his illusion, but Shuichi knew Yuki would try to make it better; he was so confused, it made him sick.  
  
Wrapping his arms tight around his companion, Shuichi nearly cried, "I have no idea what I'm supposed to do Hiro..."  
  
21: I know it is my favourite number, but I don't think it would be too happy with me writing at it today.  
  
The arms that trapped him hurt, but he wouldn't let on to it, if there was anything he could do, this would be it, it was the least he could offer the smaller. He could feel the salty tears along his collar, and it hurt him to know that there was nothing he could do to remedy the situation. If he were to logically consider the situation, he could see that both of them had been horribly wronged by the writer, and it was enough to make him jump to the conclusion that had been burning at the back of his mind.  
  
Wrapping his arms around his best friend with enough firmness to not hurt Shuichi, but to assure him that he was there for him, he tucked the vocalists teary face into his neck, and stroked his hair in a soft rhythm. "Don't worry, no matter what happens, I will always be here for you. I'll protect you." Gently kissing the top of Shuichi's head, he slowed his breathing, hoping that his chest, pressed against Shuichi's own, would calm the rapid choking breaths. "I think you should try to sleep, and tomorrow morning, I will make you a big breakfast of whatever you want to eat, and then we will work it out together."  
  
22:  
  
The sensitive boy crumbled into his friend's embrace, the warmth and strength of it such a comfort. Though the other offered no advice, it was still relieving to know that someone was there for him. In this instance, Shuichi knew it was up him to solve his own problems, but obviously there were better things to do now. Rubbing the salty fluid from his eyes, the vocalist shakily spoke.  
  
"What did we always used to talk about, because I can't think of anything..." He stifled a giggle, mostly at the irony that a loud mouth as himself was at a loss or words. It probably sounded strange to Hiro, who had become quite accustomed to listening rather than talking. Now it was up to the redhead to hold up the conversation. "So what will we talk about Hiro?" 


End file.
